


idiot, pls don't do anything with my teammate

by Little Giant (Destini)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Brazil Arc, First Dates, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mentioned Kageyama Tobio, Sexual Tension, like... a lot of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destini/pseuds/Little%20Giant
Summary: The promised 'Sexy HoshiHina Brazil Date' for HoshiHina winning a rarepair poll!He leans in, lips brushing Hoshiumi’s ear when says again, “You look so good right now.”Hoshiumi’s fingers tighten around Hinata’s wrists, keeping him close as he sways to erratic beats of Portuguese vocals over techno.“You’ve looked good all night, Hinata. Now—dance.”
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	idiot, pls don't do anything with my teammate

**Author's Note:**

> This is the spiciest T-rated fic I've ever done and I'm not sure I can ever do it again. Enjoy. Thanks for voting HoshiHina, this one is for the tag. But now that I'm finished, I won't feel guilty reading that Hoshiumom fic. Sorry about what I did to your son, ma'am.

It was an accident— _probably._ Hinata’s gotten good at manifesting the things he wants in life. All it takes is a lot of willpower and a little research, after all. Even the smaller joys in life—dancing with strangers at a Rio outdoors bar, being offered a beach towel during a light show, cooking something that Pedro enjoys—Hinata has taken things a day at a time, perfecting the art of a young 20-something who has the rest of his life ahead of him and volleyball.

But whatever this is? It’s new, something he’s unfamiliar with and, if he’s honest with himself, was a happy daydream never explicit in his plans. It’s an awkward stare down with his old rival (and friend, if he’s brave enough to admit it) who hasn’t _really_ traveled over 16 hours to come see him, whose single status hasn’t _really_ been broadcasted, and whose cheeks can’t _really_ be this pink after only half a margarita.

But this might happen nonetheless.

“Hoshiumi-san,” he says, laughing because it’s what he does when he feels this confused, “Are you feeling all right?”

His rival, his friend, takes another sip of his drink and smirks, lips blue over the 30% berry concoction.

“You know, _Hiiiiinata_ ,” he slurs. “I didn’t expect you to call me and meet up.”

“O-oh? I mean, since the Adlers already in South America, I thought it was possible…”

Hoshiumi giggles again, eyes flitting across to the dancing couples who flirt without abandon in the middle of the disco era-themed bar.

Hinata’s phone lights up with the sixth ignored message from Kageyama that simply states:

_“what the hell”_

“Do you wanna dance?” He offers, chugging the rest of his bourbon and already standing up.

Hoshiumi frowns and sighs. “Aw, I can’t dance like these people. Maybe not at all.”

_“idiot pls don’t do anything with my teammate”_

“That’s okay! It’s just for fun! And I can teach you,” Hinata says, far too eager.

_“hinata please don’t make things weird”_

“ _You_ can dance?” he scoffs, teasing.

“Would you believe it if I showed you?”

“I might,” Hoshiumi hums, taking a long sip of his drink until there’s no blue left over the ice. “All right. Teach me.”

No one person seems to lead the other to the floor. Their hands tug each other left and right but always forward until Hinata is gripping Hoshiumi by the waist under a bunch of alternating strobe lights that drape him gorgeously like a holographic cape. Hoshiumi’s white hair easily bleeds every color that touches it—blonde to hot pink and back again.

“You look really good,” he yells over the music.

“What?”

He leans in, lips brushing Hoshiumi’s ear when says again, “You look so good right now.”

Hoshiumi’s fingers tighten around Hinata’s wrists, keeping him close as he sways to erratic beats of Portuguese vocals over techno.

“You’ve looked good all night, Hinata. Now—dance.”

Hinata is shoved away, heart racing as he stares at the flushed face of Hoshiumi whose stare bores into him, razor sharp and razor hot. Breathing in the scent of whiskey and grilled meat, Hinata has no choice but to take that all-consuming look and let it burn him from the inside out. He takes the first step forward, running a hand through his hair as he sways his hips closer and closer to his rival, his friend, his dance partner.

Hoshiumi watches every movement and it _should_ make his confidence sway, but it emboldens enough to throw one hand around his waist and tug him into his space. Hinata rolls his hips and snaps to the beat, laughing when he sees the stunned expression Hoshiumi wears. His hands carefully touch him back and he looks curiously into his eyes before Hinata suddenly spins him around in a circle. Hinata throws his arms around his shoulders next, prefacing his flirting with a smirk before he’s shimmying down Hoshiumi’s torso, mouth dangerously low near his body, before popping back up.

“This isn’t dancing,” Hoshiumi sputters, eyes glancing off to the side and checking for onlookers.

“Hey… Hoshiumi-san. Keep your eyes on me.”

“Mm.” He chokes but follows Hinata’s instruction, copying him as he sways and jerks to the drops and fast tempos of electronic singing. Hoshiumi stumbles, but Hinata grips his waist, fingers accidentally but continuously brushing the too-rigid taut muscles underneath his shirt.

He laughs and Hoshiumi raises an eyebrow. Hinata shakes his head and leans in to shout in his ear, continuing to sway even when his chest touches his. “I was just laughing because of how muscular you are. You should be more flexible, Hoshiumi-san.”

Hoshiumi grimaces and shouts back. “I can do a lot more than that if you want.”

There’s a dip of silence when the song ends—a break in instruments, no cheering, no announcements, Hoshiumi’s clouded gaze and parted lips, Hinata’s own stunned gaze—and then trumpets. Hinata remembers the trumpets for a long time, the sudden way they came blaring forth, crashing on his ears just as Hoshiumi’s lips crashed onto his.

Their hands curl together, too warm among the other sweating bodies that pay them no mind, but Hinata’s far more uncomfortable with separating. Hoshiumi tastes of blue. A blueberry tongue, a fresh breeze, a wad of worries that melt the longer his tongue swaps with his.

Hinata’s thankful for the trumpets, really, so Hoshiumi can’t hear his ragged breaths when he breaks away for air and buries his face in his shoulder.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?” Hoshiumi asks, arms looping around his waist in a loose hug.

“Yeah.”

They’re both a lot more sober by the time they pay for their drinks and traverse the night air, crackling with the electricity of city party-goers. Hinata doesn’t share the itinerary with Hoshiumi, who seems fine with the surprise and trailing in his shadow as they walk through Rio. He stops and oohs over things Hinata has forgotten are interesting with the familiarity—intricate spirals and paintings on the sides of buildings, colorful patterned dresses and sportswear of passerby, and proud statues of long-ago.

When Hinata remembers, then finds the ice cream shop, Hoshiumi is suddenly sullen when he says, “You know… ice cream is… I don’t know if I should be eating things like that. It’s cheat day, clearly, but…”

Heavy eyes drag down Hinata’s chest for a moment before he nods. “Well. Okay. I guess if you look that good, then ice cream is fine.”

The blush that creeps on his face remains for three minutes too long as Hoshiumi sits across from him, licking plain vanilla out of a cone while Hinata’s spoon of rainbow sherbet keeps missing his mouth.

Hoshiumi giggles and leans forward, dragging his tongue in one distractingly long stripe across the diameter. “Hey. Hinata. This is fun.”

“Oh? Yeah? That’s—good. I have more things planned but, um, just wanted you to relax on your first day…”

“I feel pretty relaxed,” Hoshiumi nods, leaning on one arm.

Hinata ignores the flex of muscles there that he isn’t used to seeing. Japan has been treating him well. He hopes he can keep up.

 _I wanted to show him the beach_ , he remembers, licking red and yellow that slips down his wrist. When he notices Hoshiumi watching him, he smiles. “Did you want to try some of mine?”

Hoshiumi glances down to his wrist before quickly shaking his head.

“Okay. Suit yourself.”

He opens his mouth again and Hoshiumi hesitantly moves an arm forward. “Wait. Yeah. I do.”

Hoshiumi takes his wrist, raising it to his mouth and letting his tongue smooth over the ice cream Hinata has missed. He squirms as he watches Hoshiumi work—too slow, too fast, way too thrilling when each breathy lick sends pleasurable shocks down his spine.

His voice squeaks when he finally finds it again. “H-hey… I wanna take you to the beach. If you’re not too tired.”

Hoshiumi grins. “You want to show me beach volleyball?”

“Well, yes, but later. For today, just the beach.”

“Romantic,” Hoshiumi mutters, eyes slipping out to the window.

Hinata can’t swallow whatever’s in his throat. He tries not to think about the implications of wanting to keep kissing his rival, his friend, his dance partner, his confidant.

They carry their shoes as they traverse the sand, oranges and yellows splattered across the sky as it darkens on their right and city lights like fireflies on their left.

When Hoshiumi trips for the third time, grumbling, Hinata helps him up with his free hand and gives him a grin he hopes is comforting. Hoshiumi exhales and curls his fingers in Hinata’s helpful hand before continuing the trek forward. There’s a peace that comes with being on the far side of the world away from home, like they’re sharing a secret with every step, the evidence washing away in gentle waves.

Knees-deep in the cold ocean water, they huddle for warmth while Hinata whispers him more secrets. How scared he is of failure, how he wants to be enough, how lonely it gets, how much he wants to not only catch up to people like him and Kageyama, but surpass them.

How impossible it really sounds sometimes.

Hoshiumi doesn’t refute any of it, just breathes hot air into the crook of his neck that’s maybe far more calming than empty platitudes.

When they hold hands and keep walking, they sometimes stop just to look—at the city, at the sunset, at each other.

Hinata thinks, maybe, none of this is really an accident.

But it’s getting late, a heavy warmth still coating the atmosphere despite the sun disappearing on the horizon.

“Wanna use the outdoor showers? To cool off and get some of this sand off before we head back?” Hinata asks, swinging their hands.

“Sure.”

The water is maybe a bit too cold and Hinata winces under the showerhead, cleaning his sandals off first.

“You know… I was hoping to play beach volleyball with you as early as tomorrow. If you’re rested, maybe,” Hinata admits, blinking through the water that runs through his hair at Hoshiumi who stands just outside the streams.

“I’d like that…”

After a moment, Hoshiumi gently squeezes next to him—which, okay, wow, his muscles are _so_ hard—and Hinata awkwardly shuffles to give him more room.

His white hair, wet, is dangerously close to his eyes but Hoshiumi doesn’t move his bangs, just stands there, chest bumping his. Hinata looks to the side and hopes his friend can’t hear his racing heart, but is forced to turn back and lean in when Hoshiumi speaks quietly under the rain of water.

“Hey. Hinata… I’m tired. Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

Hoshiumi’s fingers find his again in the water, his thumb brushing his so lightly he’s unsure if it’s on purpose or not. But it’s a lifeline, somehow still warm despite the chill of the water that slicks down the both of them.

Hinata considers dinner, but figures after helping Hoshiumi back to his hotel room, he can just heat up some leftovers at home.

“Yeah. All right.”

The walk back is mostly quiet and Hinata wonders if he’s pushed Hoshiumi too much on the first night. In all honesty, he’s excited to see the room one more time after they’d hurriedly dropped off his friend’s luggage before running off. The hotel isn’t far from where he and Pedro live, and he hopes Hoshiumi finds it nice enough. It’s themed after the beach, fake-sand on the walkway, birds on the ceiling, and a free breakfast.

Hoshiumi pauses at the door of his room, card in hand as he blinks back at Hinata.

“Hey.”

“H-hey,” Hinata waves back, staring into Hoshiumi’s eyes and wondering what he’s thinking.

Hoshiumi places the card to the censor and is the first to step in, taking in the clean, simple room with waves painted on the walls and paintings of various tourist spots. His bag and suitcase have fallen to the floor from their rush, and Hoshiumi stares at the bed that reminds Hinata of a blue-painted seashell.

“There’s only one bed.”

Hinata laughs. “Yeah, of course. Um, do you prefer a room with two?”

After a moment, Hoshiumi turns to face him, bringing him inside with a gentle hand. Hinata lets himself be led, heart thumping when Hoshiumi’s gaze settles intently on his and then again when Hoshiumi closes the door behind them and shoves Hinata against it.

“Hoshiumi-san?”

“I had a great first day,” he whispers, hands pressing on either side of him against the door.

What? What? What?

One knee settles between his legs and Hoshiumi’s breath ghosts his ear when he leans in close. “I just didn’t appreciate you riling me up all day.”

Hinata gasps. “Whoa, whoa, I-I didn’t—”

Hoshiumi drags the fat of his tongue up the shell of Hinata’s ear and he winces, hands tightening in fists as he tries to fish for any coherency in the sea of his thoughts.

“Teasing me with the ice cream. The dancing. Taking me out to the beach. Showing off in the showers. And then you have the confidence to get us a hotel room with one bed? That’s a lot for a first date, Hinata.”

Oh, _shit_.

His rival, his friend, his dance partner, his confidant, his date.

Hoshiumi nips at Hinata’s ear and he nearly buckles, shivering. The tongue drags down to his neck before Hoshiumi’s overly hot mouth sucks at a delicate spot of skin beneath his ear.

“Ah…”

Hinata’s hands shake as they settle on Hoshiumi’s shoulders—but he finds he’s pulling him forward instead of back. Encouraged, Hoshiumi’s hands leave the door to cup Hinata’s cheeks, keeping him in place when he bites down to collarbones.

The hands on Hoshiumi’s shoulders squeeze when he nips all the way across the thick line of skin and bone, reminiscent of a vanilla ice cream cone that just won’t leave Hinata’s mind right now. There’s been a disconnect, a misunderstanding he should definitely address, but—

But—

He can’t remember why he should. Does he have to? Does he _really_?

Hoshiumi kisses up his throat, slowly and with care, and Hinata goes numb, melting into the hard wood of the door. His hands fall from his shoulders to rest loosely around his waist, and Hoshiumi’s mouth finally meets Hinata’s at the top of his ascent, tasting of salt and vanilla.

He continues moving at a pace that pulls him deeper still—slow lips, a slow push of tongue, and an even slower tug of Hinata off the door complete with a slow collapsing on the bed with its blue shell covers.

Hinata wraps his arms around Hoshiumi’s neck and he gasps into his mouth, comforted by his weight and the scent of wet sand that still clings to his skin.

Hoshiumi’s hands slip under his shirt to massage his abs, and Hinata arches into the touch.

Just another thing that’s slow, a single finger that slips up the contours of his skin and then slow, slow down to the edges of his shorts and—

“Whoa! Whoa, wait!”

He breaks away from his lips and scrambles to sit up. Hoshiumi lets him go, sitting back on his legs and panting with a pink face that tints red in the light of the sunset still peeking through the windows.

“Y-yes?” he asks.

Hinata covers his face with his hands and groans. “Hoshiumi-san. I-I have to tell you something. Sorry. Damn.”

He drags his hands down and puts on a brave face, while Hoshiumi just waits patiently.

“Er, so—I, um, misunderstood what all this was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-I had originally called you to ask you some questions about mid-air battles. I saw some of your clips.”

“Right…?” he says, nodding with furrowed eyebrows.

“A-and um, I’m just now realizing tonight that you thought I was asking you out on a date.”

Hoshiumi stares at him for a little longer, waiting for more, but Hinata just gnaws at his lip.

“Wait… Are you serious?” Hoshiumi blushes a darker shade and Hinata can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or rage. “All of this wasn’t—I thought you—but I came to _Brazil_ for you—!”

Hinata panics and crawls forward, taking one of Hoshiumi’s fists between his hands. “And, and that’s totally my fault! I-I was confused!”

“ _I wasn’t_! I-I was saying I didn’t mind a date with you and making a vacation of it!”

“I know, I know. It’s really obvious now. B-but I’m telling you this now because I would’ve felt guilty if we…”

Hinata trails off, trying to find the words.

“I feel really stupid,” Hoshiumi says, seeming to shrink in real time right in front of him.

“Please don’t. I’m, um, really happy. I’m super happy to go on a date with you.” Hinata quickly corrects himself, remembering there’s an entire week ahead of them. “ _Many_ dates with you. You came all the way to Brazil for me, and that’s the most amazing thing someone can do for me. I’m glad I misunderstood.”

Hoshiumi’s fist relaxes in his hand and he groans, pulling away to flop on his back on the bed.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“ _Hoshiumi-saaan_ , I mean it, I… I really like you. It’s just, I never thought you’d feel the same way. Assuming you _do_ feel the same way?”

Hinata looks at him hopefully, but Hoshiumi closes his eyes, sighing before muttering, “Obviously.”

He grins, feeling knee-deep in water, sand in his toes, a secret in the air. With a chuckle, he throws himself over Hoshiumi’s legs, drinking in the adorable ‘oof’ he releases from the weight.

“Would you believe it if I kissed you?”

The confidence in his voice fizzles out, a nervous ‘ _you_ ’ pitched higher at the end of his question.

Hoshiumi groans, still not looking at him, but his fingers move to trace circles on his thighs. Hinata leans over and lets his face rest a fraction away from Hoshiumi.

“I might,” he finally says, moving his face back to meet Hinata.

“Then we should try.”

Hinata brushes his lips against Hoshiumi and lets himself get wrapped up in the cooling heat of the setting sun, drowned in soft rays of purple and two brawny arms that keep him ever-hot. Hoshiumi still looks beautiful like this, the colors like a filter over him. But Hinata thinks he probably looks best with reds and pinks—kissed lips and hickeys, mouth open and smiling.

He supposes he has ample time to find out.


End file.
